


Three Times Neal Tried To Avoid Writing Case Reports (And One Time Peter Willingly Let Him Off The Hook)

by alvahana



Category: White Collar
Genre: Bromance, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alvahana/pseuds/alvahana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing Neal hates more than staking out in the van is writing case reports.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Neal Tried To Avoid Writing Case Reports (And One Time Peter Willingly Let Him Off The Hook)

(1)  
  
Neal was chatting with Janet the clerk when he saw Peter, with a mildly disgruntled expression, walked out of his office and then down the stairs. Having a feeling that look was directed at him, Neal smoothly ended his conversation with Janet and sat down to wait for the agent. As expected, Peter stopped at his desk.  
  
“Neal.”  
  
“Peter.”  
  
“Did you ask Agent Wesley to write case reports for you again?”  
  
“Nope.” Neal made sure his innocent face was impeccable.  
  
“Then why did he just hand me this?” Peter flapped down a stack of paper in front of him. Neal noticed it was marked with at least a dozen of color tabs.  
  
“Well, he did write my report,” Neal replied, unfazed. “But I didn’t ask him to do that — he volunteered to help.”  
  
Peter put a hand on his hip, and said, “So you misled Agent Wesley into thinking that I wanted him instead of you to complete the report.”  
  
He shrugged.  
  
“Neal.”  
  
“I may have implied you weren’t very satisfied with his last report and suggested his writing skill needed more practice.”  
  
“How many times do I have to tell you that the probies in this office are not hired to do your paperwork?” Neal opened his mouth to retort, but stopped when Peter held up a finger. “Don’t you tell me ‘I give it to him as a gift, one that he can invest in their future’.”  
  
“I was gonna say this can help you evaluate his probationary performance, you know, in case you want to take his writing techniques into account.”  
  
That earned him a warning glare, unsurprisingly.   
  
“All right, all right,” Neal held up both hands to surrender. “I’ll rewrite it.”  
  
  
(2)  
  
“Neal, what are you doing here?”  
  
“Thought I’d give you a hand with these,” Neal said cheerfully as he gestured at the countless fake IDs scattered over the conference room table. They had just closed a major identity theft case in the city.   
  
“I don’t need you; a probie will be here to sort them through.”  
  
“That could take a whole day, Peter. I’m more familiar with this case. I can finish it in just a couple of hours.”  
  
Peter considered that for a moment, and then a knowing smirk emerged on his face. “Nice try, Caffrey. I know what you’re trying to do.”  
  
Neal blinked, seemingly completely clueless. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“You’re stalling, because you don’t wanna work on that lengthy report I have you write.”  
  
“Oh that, I’ll do it later.” Neal gave a shrug. “Isn’t due until tomorrow morning.”  
  
“Be sure to include a detailed description of that little adventure you decided to embark on without authorization.”  
  
Neal groaned. “Do I really have to write that down too? It’ll take like half a dozen of pages to list all those smuggled electronics, which by the way, are definitely not my arena of expertise.”  
  
“Hey, no one told you to go snooping around the warehouse right before a takedown.” Peter had to resist the urge to take out his phone and snap a picture of his pouting consultant.   
  
“I was just making sure no one’s hiding in the back.”  
  
“Well, then I guess you were right about hiding. Since you were the one who discovered the contraband hidden in the back room, you get to list them all out in your report.”  
  
“You made it sound like I did something bad. I helped solve one of the active investigations from the Cyber-crime division, you know.”  
  
Peter sighed. “You did good,” he told Neal, who instantly perked up. “But, reports are necessary. If it happens in the field —”  
  
“It happens in the file. Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Neal muttered, clearly given up arguing. “Fine, I’ll get it done this afternoon. Shouldn’t take long.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Now Peter, what do you say we study these brilliant counterfeit IDs together?”  
  
  
(3)  
  
A knock on the door of his office brought Peter out of the budget draft he had been working on since after lunch. He looked up and saw Jones standing in the doorway.  
  
“Peter, you got a minute?”  
  
“Yeah, Jones. Come in.”  
  
“Just wanted to give you these before I leave the office for the day.” Jones handed him a pile of gray folders, which were obviously surveillance reports he had to go over.   
  
“More paperwork, great.” Peter didn’t bother to hide his grievance from the other man. An apologetic smile was visible on Jones’ lips, anyway.  
  
“And one more thing, Neal asked me to give you his report on the Ryder case.”  
  
“Huh, I’m surprised he did it so willingly this time.” Peter accepted the folder from Jones. “Wait. Why not give me himself? Where’s Neal?”  
  
Jones shrugged. “He left fifteen minutes ago while you were having a phone call. Said he got a dinner date with his landlady.”  
  
“All right. Thanks, Jones. I’ll look over these later. See you tomorrow.”  
  
“Have a good night, Boss.”  
  
Peter delved back into the paperwork right after Jones left. Between the budget draft and the surveillance reports, it was an hour later when he finally had time to take a look at Neal’s case report. He flipped open the folder, expecting to see a neatly written document but instead, there was a pen — more specifically, one of the FBI issued pens with built-in recording function. Underneath the pen was a small piece of note:  
  
 _Hey Peter,_  
  
 _Thought I’d save you some reading time by handing in a verbal report instead of a written one. Attached is the recording pen I kept in my pocket the whole time during the undercover op. Now you can listen to every conversation of the sting. Better than a ten-page_ _document_ _, right? You’re welcome._ _;-)_  
  
 _NC_  
  
  
“…Caffrey!”  
  
  
(4)  
  
The first thing that came into view when Neal regained consciousness was the stark white ceiling above him. That, together with the antiseptic smell lingering in the air, told him he was probably lying on a hospital bed.  
  
“Hey. Welcome back.” A gentle, familiar voice came in his ear. Neal turned his head slowly towards the sound, and was met with a blurry face that looked awfully like Peter.  
  
“P’ter?” Trying to clear his vision, Neal blinked a few times. His friend was sitting in a plastic chair by the bed, the worried lines on his forehead matching the wrinkles on his shirt.  
  
“Yeah, buddy, it’s me. How do you feel?”  
  
He felt like his head had been stuffed with cotton balls, but that’s just too many words to form for his current state. “Fuzzy.” He decided to settle for that for the moment. Peter seemed to relax a little at his answer.  
  
“You’re in a hospital. The doctor gave you some good stuff to dull the pain. You were out for the whole afternoon.”  
  
“What happened…?” Neal asked.  
  
“What’s the last thing you remember?”  
  
“Um…Interviewing some staff of a jewelry store about some theft, I think. With you.”  
  
“You remember that middle-aged, red-headed guy?”  
  
Neal contemplated for a moment. “Yeah, he seemed a little jumpy during the interview.”  
  
“Well, turned out he was the one who tipped off our thief. When we asked him to go to the office for further questioning, he panicked and pushed you down the stairs trying to get away.”  
  
“Ouch.”  
  
“Yeah," Peter made a sympathetic grimace. "That’s how you got a mild concussion, a broken wrist and some livid bruises. But don’t worry; you’ll make a full recovery, provided that you take it easy at least for the rest of the week, of course.”  
  
Neal raised his head slightly from the pillow to look down at his torso. His front arm was wrapped in a plaster cast. Now that he was paying attention, there was indeed some tenderness around the wrist area.   
  
“You all right, Neal?” He must have zoned out for a minute or two, because the worried tone was back in Peter’s voice.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine…” He wanted to say more to assure Peter, but working his brain was simply too exhausting and his eyelids were starting to feel heavy again. Plus, something else kept nagging his mind.  
  
“Is something bothering you?”  
  
“Peter, what about the report?”  
  
The concern in Peter’s expression changed to confusion. “What report?”  
  
“The one you asked me to hand in by Friday morning. I can probably write with my left hand, but I don’t think I can finish it tonight. Probably need another day or two.”  
  
Now Peter was staring at him in disbelief. “You’re lying on a hospital bed and all you worry about is a case report.”  
  
“You said it was important.”  
  
“I did say that.”  
  
“What happens in the field happens in the file."  
  
"You do realize you're quoting me, right?" Peter said with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll ask one of the probies to do it for you, just like you’ve always wished.”  
  
“Oh. So…no report?”  
  
Peter let out a sigh, not annoyed but indulgent. “No report," he told Neal softly. "Now close your eyes and get some sleep, Neal.”  
  
Neal closed his eyes. With the warmth from Peter's hand on his shoulder, he soon drifted into a peaceful, report-free sleep.


End file.
